The Believer Series
by hindsight404
Summary: She believes in him with every fiber of her being. Will her faith be enough to help carry them through, to the bitter end?
1. You Are the Only Threat I See

The Believer:

"You Are the Only Threat I See"

I wasn't sure how it happened.

None if it, if I was going to be entirely honest. How I entered the Fade, how I became the Herald of Andraste, how I became the head of a resurrected order from before the first age, or how I had come to build that order into a force to be reckoned with. This mark on my hand, this strange connection to the Breach that I possessed, and the strange call to end the tears in the Veil and destroy the Elder One; these were all things that I still did not understand. If I lived long enough, I wondered if I would look back on my life and suddenly everything would make sense.

As it stood, nothing made sense, but I was on a track to try and find the little things that did.

Many of the little things that made sense came in the form of my ragtag companions, the people of the Inquisition who promised to fight at my side. There was Varric, whose presence among the members of the Inquisition made sense after his firsthand interactions with the Champion of Kirkwall and the nasty business that began a mage rebellion there. There was Dorian, a Tevine magister who shunned the ways of his people; a pariah with a great mustache and a greater desire to redeem himself and his countrymen. Iron Bull – who was undoubtedly my favorite simply for his lewdness – a qunari mercenary who hated demons. Another mage, pro-Circle, named Vivienne with an excellent taste in fashion; she was intimidating, but it made sense why she worked alongside us (even if I was in a constant state of wondering when the moment of her betrayal would come). A Grey Warden named Blackwall, an elven mage named Solas, a young man with a dark secret named Cole (I think that is his name, but I have a hard time remembering it), a wildcard elf named Sera who was better than anyone else I knew with a bow, and lastly the pious Seeker of Truth named Cassandra. My other companions – more advisors than companions – were the enigmatic Sister Nightingale, or Leliana as she now preferred I call her; former Knight-Captain Cullen of Kirkwall's Templars; and a diplomatic Antivan noble by the name of Josephine Montilyet.

These people were the only things I understood in the current mess of my life. While none of them were simple and many harbored secret ambitions we were united by the common belief that the events taking place in Thedas needed to come to an end.

Chief among those that held this desire was evidently Cassandra. I blamed her mostly for being the one to put me in this outrageous position, but I saw her point when she yelled at me, "You are the only threat I see." I was clearly guilty of being the only one to survive the terror of the blast in Haven and walk out of the Fade, a righteously suspicious act that crowned me Inquisitor.

I stood alone in the War Room of Skyhold – the center of the Inquisition and my seat of power – staring at the stupid table fashioned like a map of Thedas. There were little wooden pieces spread out across its expanse; lions, flaming swords, lidless eyes, dancing griffons and hounds, half-circles, and other silly emblems signifying the factions and orders and nations of Thedas. The sight of it was exasperating.

"Inquisitor, are you alright?"

I knew without looking whom it was speaking to me. I heard the Nevarran-tinged accent and the clunky movements of a warrior not trained for stealth.

I replied without looking up. "I've told you before, Cassandra, you can call me Trevelyan. There's no need to be so formal with me."

"It is a habit," the dark-haired and square-jawed woman said as she moved over to join me on my side of the war table.

I glanced at her, finally taking in the sight of her. Maker, I thought she was gorgeous. The planes of her cheeks and the sharp curve of her jaw were sharp and fine, adding hard edges to an already tough exterior. The chocolate-brown hair and coffee-rich eyes accented bronze skin and pale scars. She was tall and strong; she needed to be in order to heft and hack with both shield and sword. More than anything, though, I admired her conviction. To some her brusque exterior and pious character overwhelmed and intimidated, and in coalition with those things a few found her overbearing or unattractive in character. Her conviction made her far more alluring, in my mind. Brusque or not, pious or not, I still thought that Cassandra Pentaghast was one of the most attractive women I had met in many years.

I dared to stare a moment too long and she gave me a puzzled look. I averted my gaze back to the war table and sighed, trying to search for words.

"What are you doing up here?" I finally spat out after my moment's hesitation. "It's late."

Darkness fell over Skyhold three hours before and many of our companions had turned in for the night. If not, a bulk of them was most likely playing cards and drinking down at the tavern. I was usually down there with them – a collection of Iron Bull, Sera, Varric, and Blackwall, typically – but tonight I had lots on my mind. What was it that plagued Cassandra's for her to be up at this hour, I wondered?

"I could not sleep. I tried for a while. And why are you up? You look…burdened, Trevelyan. You never answered my question: are you alright?"

I shrugged, choosing the more ambiguous of answers. "I'm fine. Or I will be, once this is all over."

She snorted a little and let her hands grasp the wood of the table, pinching the grain between strong thumb and forefinger. A ripple of muscle arose from her wrist as she gripped the table. "Won't we all."

"Most of Thedas doesn't seem to grasp the situation at hand. Celene and Gaspard are still fighting their stupid civil war, the mages and templars haven't resolved their issues, and the elven rebellion grows worse with each day. If they spent as much of their anger and resources they do fighting each other and stopped to help us fight the Elder One, _maybe _we would have a chance. More so than we do now."

"That is what you are here to do, Inquisitor."

I scowled at her, both for using the stupid title thrust upon me, and for verbally reminding me of how much was at stake.

"No pressure," I laughed.

"If there is anyone in Thedas who can stop the Breach and defeat the Elder One, it is you."

It sounded like a compliment, but it tasted like vinegar. She had been searching for the Hero of Fereldan – the Grey Warden who almost single-handedly vanquished the Fifth Blight – and the Champion of Kirkwall – a Circle-sympathizing rogue by the name of Marian Hawke – for many years before helping form the Inquisition. I was not her first choice, or her second, but I became her only choice when the Maker deemed me worthy enough to walk out of the Fade and escape the blast that destroyed the Chantry conclave.

"You say that, but I know you don't mean it. You wanted the Warden or the Champion, and instead you got me. If not for this stupid, _weird_ curse" – I said, raising my pulsing green hand – "you would never have chosen me."

"I cannot pretend to know the Maker's will. The Warden and the Champion might have been my first choice because of the odds they overcame, but the Maker saw that it was not them who were given this duty, but you. You are the only one with the power to end this."

"You were singing quite a different tune when I first met you," I said, recalling the time I walked out of the Fade and Cassandra pressed her blade against my neck.

"I thought you were a threat. Now I know that you are our only hope."

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Seeker. I can't guarantee this will have a good ending."

"I believe in you," she said, her voice now a calm and quiet reassurance. She let go of the war table and stepped back. "And it is Cassandra. You may call me Cassandra, Trevelyan."

I turned to face her, to say something sarcastic in retort, but she was already walking away. "The Believer", that's what the rest of our companions called her; a jibe against her piety and unwavering faith in the Maker, but I saw now how much truth there was to the joke. Cassandra Pentaghast was a believer in lost causes and I was the biggest of them all.


	2. I Came to Hear the Truth

Part 2 of my new story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"I Came to Hear the Truth"

"And Hawke says to the Arishok – I shit you not – she says, 'Let's dance.'" Varric let out a peel of cackling and slapped his knee. "As if the Arishok was just some Fereldan dog to dance the Remigold with! Maker's breath, I was certain that the Guard Captain crapped herself. Oh, that was good."

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and slammed down half of the contents of his mug. I couldn't stop my own laughter either, though I recovered slightly quicker than my dwarf friend. "She seems like a ballsy woman."

"If Hawke were a dwarf we'd say she has the stones of a Paragon!" He cackled again.

"I think it's bloody awesome. She sounds like an incredible woman," Sera added with a wolfish grin on her face.

Varric raised his mug to Sera and said, "Hawke is one of the greatest people in Thedas."

"She left Kirkwall in shambles," Cullen quipped, "and you still think she was great?"

"Your Knight-Commander was no help at all. And if I remember correctly, even you told her to step down, serah."

"Knight-Commander Meredith went too far. There is a limit, if anything the Chantry says is true."

"I still think that the Champion sounds like a kick-ass woman," Sera finished. "I mean, the bloody Arishok! And she killed him too, didn't she?"

"She did, single-handedly."

"So romantic."

I glanced at Sera, who now had a dreamy look in her eyes. Varric busied himself with finishing his mead, Cullen stood from the table to wander over to the bar, and my eyes glossed over for a moment. I thought of this Champion, wondering if Varric's stories were true. They had to be. If they weren't Cassandra and the Divine wasted five years looking for a false tale and rumors of a woman who could rip the arms off an ogre with her bare hands.

The tavern door opened, pulling me from my stupor, and I saw Cassandra disappear outside. I pushed off the table I sat at and left my drinking companions behind. As I left, I heard Varric snicker, "Going to play hide and _seek_, Inquisitor?"

I shook my head as I grabbed my coat and ignored him and the other quips coming from the tavern patrons. Once outside, the cold breeze blasted my face. It felt refreshing, a welcome difference to the stuffiness of the tavern. I scanned the courtyard, looking for Cassandra, and spotted her heading up the steps into the keep by herself. I put one foot in front of another, swiftly bounding up the steps behind her until I met her halfway.

"Cass," I said, catching her attention just as I fell in alongside her.

"Trevelyan," she said curtly. She stayed her course.

"Didn't feel like listening to Varric's stories?"

"I've heard them before. And it's late. We are leaving tomorrow for the Western Approach and we should all be getting some rest."

"Care to join me for a glass of wine in my study?"

She cast a sidelong glance at me; unsure of my intentions it seemed by the look on her face.

"Antivan, from the coast of Rialto Bay in the north. I've been told it's quite good. Josephine got a whole case of it from her cousin and gave me a bottle. But I can't drink the whole thing and it seems selfish to drink alone."

"No, thank you," she said, turning away.

"Come on, Cass. Just one glass. I'd hate to waste an Antivan wine on a Free Marcher. A Nevarran drinking companion would make it so much more enjoyable."

She sighed. "Fine. One glass."

We marched up to my study, where I poured us each a glass. She eyed me again as we toasted to the Inquisition and our upcoming journey to Adamant Fortress. After taking a sip, she sat against my desk.

"What do you think we'll find at Adamant?" I asked her.

"Last I knew, the place was used as a possessed Tranquil mage's laboratory. Many terrible things occurred there, and these new reports of Venatori presence in the area are unsettling. I just pray that we make it out alive."

"The possessed Tranquil mage… A friend of Enchanter Wynne's, right? Cole told me once about everything that happened when he went there. Sounds tragic. And full of demons."

"I'm more worried about the breach in the Veil than I am about a few demons. But I'm also not a mage. Are you certain that brining Dorian with us is a good idea? Will he not be tempted?"

"The way I understand it, the power of the spirits of the Fade are a constant temptation, and Dorian has learned better than anyone aside from Solas and Vivienne how to master avoiding that temptation. Plus, he knows more about the Venatori than anyone else."

"Mhmm," she grunted, sipping from her wine glass. "And what if he succumbs to the dangers of magic?"

I sighed. How should I know what I would do in a hypothetical situation? I would like to think that I would be able to do the right thing, but one never truly knows what they are going to do with an opportunity until it is before him. I didn't consider myself any different. I knew I would be able to do something – to _act_, in the least – but I had no idea what that _something_ would be.

I shrugged to Cassandra. "I don't know. Let's hope that's a bridge we never have to cross."

"Indeed."

I finished the last of my glass, noting that I might have drank it a little quickly, but Josie wasn't lying when she said it was a good bottle. I was tempted to pour myself another glass, but decided against it. I knew my limits, and sitting on the back of a horse for six hours of traveling with a headache did not sound appealing to me.

"Well… Thank you for the wine, but I should get to bed. We have a long day's travel ahead of us."

"Of course," I said, watching as Cassandra nodded to me with a small smile upon her lips.

She ducked out of my study, leaving behind her half-empty glass of win and many words unspoken between us. I finished her glass for her and cursed myself for not saying more.

…

"Dorian!" I bellowed, running my flaming longsword through the armored Venatori in front of me. "Fight it! Fight, man!"

My friend knelt just beneath a patch of glowing green cloud covering his ears and screaming. Meanwhile, the mage on the other side of the room chanted and crowed and shot ice cones at Cassandra, Varric, and myself. We had to stop the mage, which was certain, in order to free Dorian of the tear in the veil and the whispers of demons that gripped his mind. I had attempted to dissipate the cloud with the mark on my hand, but I could only do so much to mend the Breach within Adamant with my powers; for as long as there was another magic user employing the Fade, we would continuously fight an onslaught of demons.

Varric laid down cover fire for Cassandra as she hustled to dismantle a shielded Venatori. Two archers went down, crossbow bolts peppering their sunken iron armor. I feinted left, dodged right, and slashed beneath the blow of another large Venatori. He went down in a puddle of blood and screams. I looked back over my shoulder at Dorian, who still covered his ears as he struggled to overpower the overwhelming connection to the Fade.

Giving up on the minions, I scythed through two of them, which put me closer to the Tevinter magister on the other side of the chamber. A fireball pinged off the breastplate of my armor and made a charring dent, but did little else to deter my course. I was intent on ending this madness, no matter the cost. As my sword fell over the gray-haired mage before me, he threw up a barrier. It jarred my hands and numbed my arms, but I kept my footing and unleashed a barrage of attacks. Each one left an impact that sent ripples through my flesh and bones, but I knew from experience that every mage's barrier was not infallible. With enough force, it would crack and mage cocooned inside would be left vulnerable.

A crack in the barrier appeared – a shimmer of broken glass in the globe of protection – and I thrust my longsword through it, shattering the barrier and opening the mage up to my attacks. As soon as I opened the barrier, a forceful mindblast flung me, sending me ten feet through the air to land on my back. I groaned and tried to catch my breath. I must have hit my head because I had trouble seeing. A sudden rift of fire opened in my side and I realized that a hulking Venatori warrior leered over me, his sawblade dripping in my blood. I lifted my longsword to thrust it into his neck and he collapsed beside me, gurgling and clutching at his open throat.

I somehow managed to pull myself to my feet using my sword, but collapsed as soon as I stood. I saw Cassandra through a haze of blood loss and concussion batter her shield into the face of the mage and then slide her sword between his robes. The crackling power of the Fade in the room lifted like fog and it smelt faintly of sulfur. The last thing I remembered seeing was Cassandra running to me, her mouth opening and closing with the formation of words that I could not hear.

To me, in my state of confusion and pain, I swore that she could have been Andraste, the bride of the Maker, and the one whose calling I was compelled to answer.

Then all went to darkness.

…

I awoke to light. It surrounded me, comforted me, reminded me that I was alive. I drew in a breath, feeling a shred of pain stitch my side. I placed a hand there and sat up. I quickly realized that I was no longer in the chamber beneath Adamant Fortress, but a comforting bedroom with a fireplace in the corner and an open window letting in a desert breeze. I breathed in a sigh of relief. I was alive – thank the Maker. I felt a little worse for wear, but I was alive.

"Hey there, Crazy, how you feeling?"

Next to the bed I had somehow been placed in was Varric. He sat atop a stool with a blank book and a pencil in his hands – no doubt recording everything that had happened since he joined the Inquisition. "For posterity" he would say if I asked him why he recorded everything.

"Like I was mauled by a halla. Is there any food? Or wine, in this Maker-forsaken trap?"

He laughed. "I'll see what I can scrounge up for you. In case you didn't know, the Venatori made a mess of this place. But I once knew a Tevinter elf with a great taste in wine. Maybe I'll see a familiar vintage among the rest of the swill."

"Thanks, Varric. Um… How long have I been out?"

"Oh, about two and a half days. Stache ain't the best healer in the world, so you were left to the Seeker's field medicine and a handful of potions. You had a fever the first day and said some crazy shit while you were out. But anyways. I'll let her and Mustache know you're awake. They've both got some things to tell you."

"Thanks, Varric, for looking out for me."

The dwarf shrugged as he hopped off his stool and waddled to the door. "I've taken care of worse, just remember that, Crazy."

The door opened and closed and I was left alone. I lifted my shirt to examine the damage and smelt the faint earthy tinge of an elfroot poultice as I lifted the white bandage. The marred flesh was pink, cool, and left a scant amount of red drainage on the linen. It didn't look too bad. Nothing an experienced spirit healer couldn't fix. If Cass was the one who did the healing as Varric said, I was quite impressed.

"Trevelyan!" said Dorian as he burst into the room. He rushed to the stool at my side and sat down. He grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically. "It's good to see you awake, my friend."

"It's good to see you too, Dorian."

Cassandra followed after, walking more calmly and slowly into the room.

"I'm sorry, my skills in healing are not as good as Vivienne's. It's not quite my forte, if you know what I mean," Dorian continued.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad that you still have your mind. That mage really did a number on you."

"Once Cassandra put an end to him the connection to the Fade withered away. It was incredible. It just shows me how little I know of the Fade. My plan is to speak with Solas as soon as we get back to Skyhold and tell him what we saw… But you must rest. I won't over-exert you. I'm going through the mage's spellbooks and journals. The Venatori were working on something here and I'm intent on getting to the heart of the matter."

"Thanks for your concern, Dorian. I appreciate it."

"Of course, my friend." He let go of my hand, stood, and left the room.

Cassandra took his place at the chair. She was quiet for a moment. I kept my mouth shut. Then she spoke.

"The Venatori kept elven slaves in the fortress. In exchange for their help I said that they could join the Inquisition and be free. Several of them went to Skyhold with messages for the advisors to send troops and supplies to the Fortress. It'll be a couple days, but we should have resources here within the week, and we can establish Adamant for the Inquisition."

I nodded. "Good. That sounds good. Thank you, Cassandra."

"What you did was very brave…and very stupid."

"You mean shattering the barrier?"

"You should've waited for me to help you."

I sat up a little higher. "As I remember it, you had your own troubles. I did what I had to do."

"And almost died because of it."

"But I'm still here." I looked down at the wound on my side. "Your work?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I would not have had to help your sorry ass if you hadn't risked yourself so stupidly."

"I appreciate your concern, Cass, but I am more than capable—"

"Just don't do it again, unnecessarily," she cut me off. Her eyes – as rich and dark as Antivan coffee – were hard and glaring. "We need you." She paused a second and the hard expression softened just the slightest. "I need you."

"To destroy the Elder One?" I asked, testing the waters, waiting to see where exactly this conversation was headed. There was a direction I wanted it to go, but I feared that approaching it too eagerly might chase the Seeker away. Although I seriously doubted that it would.

"No…to live. To…" Cassandra sat back on the stool and crossed her arms suddenly, the quaint magic of the moment evaporated. "Andraste's ass, you're going to make me say it, aren't you, you bastard?"

I laughed, so hard that the pain in my side doubled me over on the bed. I sat up, coughing, wincing, and wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. I didn't think I'd ever heard her take Andraste's name in vain before. Still chuckling I asked, "Make you say what, Cass?"

Her eyes were narrowed again, her brow furrowed in the classic Seeker-glare. "You know _exactly_ what I am going to say. Don't even pretend that you don't."

I secretly wondered how long I could drag out the matter, feigning ignorance. But ultimately I knew it would create hard feelings. There were enough already, after my little barrier-smashing stunt, and I decided it would be better to just be honest. It's what she was wired for anyways, I remembered, thinking of Varric's portrayal of her interrogation.

"Yes, I know what you're going to say, Cass. And I feel the same way. I like you. Maybe a little bit more than that. There. Satisfied?"

An umber brown eyebrow shot up. She relaxed her arms and sat forward. "Yes, I suppose it will have to do for now. But—"

"Yes, we can't be a distraction to each other, I know," I interrupted, waving a hand flippantly in the air. "But you already are to me. Why not just put a label on whatever _this_ between us is and be done with it?"

"I think I need a little time, Trevelyan," she admitted. "I'm not you. I can't just _dive headfirst_ into something without considering the outcomes."

I nodded. "That's fine. I can wait. But I won't wait forever, Cass."

She smiled at me. "I promise I won't make you wait that long, you dramatic dysfunctional fiend."

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed. Please review!<p> 


	3. It Just Sounds So -- Romantic

Part 3 of my new story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"It Just Sounds So…Romantic"

"Damn you, Trevelyan!" Cass sneered at me. She shook her hand as if that would help the pain. Her Seeker-glare was murderous and I laughed at her.

Mornings at Skyhold are my favorite.

Beneath the shadows of the keep, in the lower bailey, there is a portion of the yard that includes a melee ring and an archery range. Every morning my companions and I head down to the yard and spar with each other or with straw dummies to keep our fighting form sharp and our technique masterful.

I am usually the first one down there and am typically the one to prep the yard. Just as the sun begins to rise I pull out the straw dummies and set them up, grab the blunted swords and axes and knives from the shed nearby, and ensure that the archery dummies are adequately stuffed with straw. As I am usually the first one down there, Blackwall is usually second to arrive. He always looks older in the pre-dawn glow, his eyelids puffy and purple, mouth drawn taut, creases worn and rugged. He warms up with his blunted longsword and as he does the stiffness in his bones and wear on his body seem to fade. The third companion to join us is either Leliana or Cassandra. Sometimes they come together, looking groggy as they sip hot tea to wake themselves. No matter the day, they are always there, and they are never late. My other companions join in shortly after, never in a particular order.

Today, Blackwall was absent, but I was glad of it. He dislocated his shoulder in the battle yesterday, and once it was properly set back in place it needed time to heal. He refused to let the mages mend the rest of the damage. He said he would be fine and I was glad that he was taking it easy today by not joining us. Leliana did not report for the morning's training either, nor did the others. For some reason – as if there were some sort of _conspiracy_ to give us more time together – Cassandra was the only one in the yard this morning. I blamed Varric; he was more than likely the culprit of this situation.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked Cassandra as she continued to flap her hand around in the air like a chicken trying to take flight.

"Maker's breath, that really hurts," she complained, stopping once more to examine her hand.

"Let me see." I stuck the tip of my blunted longsword into the dirt of the melee arena and moved to help her.

She recoiled. "No, thanks. You've done enough damage. I don't need your help."

"Oh, come on, Cass, don't be like that," I said as I grabbed onto her arm.

"Fine, you fiend."

I smiled at her. _Fiend_. It's what she called me when she was cross. I'd heard it more and more as time had gone on, so either she was perpetually angry with me, or we had become comfortable enough around each other to flirt and call each other names.

"My father made sure that I was schooled in anatomy, physiology, and pathology, you know," I told her as I gently pulled the black glove off her hand. She winced as it went up over her fingers. "He even had me follow a physician once to see how he took care of his patients."

"So now you're a doctor too? I feel so reassured."

Once the glove was free, I looked at her hand. No bleeding or open flesh. Good. "Where is the pain?" I asked. I didn't touch it again for fear that I might cause more pain in my assessment.

"Right here!" she shouted, pulling back her hand to laugh and push against me. I stumbled a few steps backward. Apparently she was fine. "_You_ are! In my ass!" She laughed so hard that she was doubled over.

I threw the black glove in her face and crowed, "That's the last time I try to take care of _you_!"

Cass's face was all laughter lines and joy. Maker, she looked beautiful. "Sure," she retorted, "I have no doubts about that. Whatever you say, Inquisitor."

Perhaps it was the joking and the playfulness, perhaps it was the sarcasm and wit, or perhaps it was that I _really _cared about Cass and wanted to take care of her; but whatever the cause of it was, I decided then that I needed to kiss her.

So I did. I grabbed onto her, slinging one arm around her waist and pressing my other hand onto the nape of her neck. I brought her lips to mine and I kissed her hard. Cass didn't pull away, as I expected, but instead leaned into me and wound her fingers up into my hair, pulling. My eyes closed and I was lost in my thoughts, like how her lips tasted like the honey she put in her morning tea, how cold her nose was as it pressed into my cheek, and how good it felt to have her body flush against mine.

I let her go, just to catch my breath, and her teeth nipped at my lower lip.

"It took you long enough to do that, Inquisitor," she whispered, her Nevarran accent twice as sultry as it was normally. She bit at my chin and then looked up at me.

I chuckled. "I was waiting for the right moment?"

Her fingers slid down from my hair to trace along my cheekbones. "Then you certainly found it…you fiend."

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed. Please review!<p> 


	4. He Is a Hero

Part 4 of my story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._ This is a longer chapter.

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"He Is a Hero"

"Do I have to wear this?" Bull complained as he picked at the flimsy white tunic covering his chest – or most of it, at least. "It's itchy."

"Unless you want to wear full Inquisition soldier armor, yes," Leliana snapped at the hulking qunari. "Those were Celene's rules: either dress as nobility or come dressed in full armor with no weapons. You refused the latter, so here we are."

He shrugged his shoulders. "So I like people looking at my muscles as I kill them, what's the big deal? Is this empress really an all-or-nothing kind of gal?"

"Undoubtedly," Vivienne quipped as she disinterestedly picked a piece of lint off her gold and cream satin robe and flicked it away. "Have you not heard anything about this civil war, Bull? For the Empress there is no compromise. I don't blame her, quite frankly."

"Bull, you look fine. And we're not leaving the palace to go back to Halamshiral so you can change into something that's more comfortable," I said, my voice full of steel and irritation. Sometimes, being the head of the Inquisition was like being a nursemaid to a bunch of children. "We are here. We have a job to do. So do you. You're my protection. So just do your job and we'll get along fine."

The Iron Bull nodded curtly. "I can do that, Trev."

"Good. Is everyone ready?"

The vestibule of the Winter Palace burst with my companions, all dressed in dashing and fashionable regalia. To some it might have looked like a circus, but that was Orlesian fashion. Vivienne, Leliana, and Dorian appointed themselves as masters of the ring; they pulled out trunks and chests full of fabrics and furs and forced each of us to try on at least three different outfits, just to make sure that we weren't missing out on the best one. After lots of groaning, complaining, and discovering who was shy about being in anything but armor, we were all finally ready.

I stood beside Cassandra, who was resplendent in shades of teal, midnight, and silver. The gown resembled a coat and skirts; the waistcoat, silver satin with curly black stitching, crawled up her neck and ended with lacy frills. The coat itself was dark teal velvet, with high, pointed shoulders, silver embroidery, and gold linings. A swath of heavy teal velvet – darker than the coat – swirled around her legs as she walked. She held a black half-mask with a plume of raven's feathers in her hand. For as much I loved seeing a woman in armor, I loved seeing Cassandra in a dress: the only thing better than a dress would have been to see her out of it, a state I desperately wanted her in.

She caught me staring, but I refused to remove my gaze from her. She looked me up and down once, grinned, and said, "You don't look so bad yourself, Inquisitor."

Vivienne threw a wad of furs and leather at me and told me to try it on. Dorian added gold cuff links and a terrifying mask resembling the symbol of the Inquisition: the eye, the sword, and the sunburst, all in one. I thought it was less of a mask and more of a crown, which I told Dorian might seem a bit pretentious to wear at Empress Celene's party, but he assured me it would make a statement. So there I was, decked out in crimson, black, and gold, a half-cape lined with mink fur braced about my shoulders.

"We're ready if you are, Crazy," Varric said. I thought he looked rather debonair in black and gold leathers. His mask was part of a wide-brimmed hat complete with a bundle of white feathers for show.

"You're good to talk to the Carta?" I asked, wanting to make sure that we weren't going to miss out on an opportunity.

"We're good. Dame Cadash is expecting to meet Ruffles and I. Don't worry, Inquisitor, we'll get them on our side, no matter what it takes."

"I know I can trust you, Varric."

He made a little sweeping bow in response.

"Everyone," I said, turning around to face my fashionable friends. "You all have work to do. I know it's a party, but don't lose sight of why we're really here. I am counting on you all to do your part. I know you can."

With that, we all went forward, walking down the long hallway that would undoubtedly end in someone getting into trouble. More than likely, that person would be me.

…

"It's her bloody party, so where is she?" Sera whined. "I can only flaunt my charms to the ladies if they're actually _present_, Trevvie."

"You have other things you can be doing, Sera," Cassandra hissed at her, "like talking to that servant over there."

"Oh, wut, why? Cuz she's an elf, Cassie? Pssh. You shem."

"Leliana says that she might have some information about Celene. See what you can do," I diplomatically interrupted. Sera would – with proper reason, of course – create a scene that I didn't want to play out.

She curtsied – more like tripped – and left Cassandra, Bull, and I in our corner. I surveyed the great hall of the Winter Palace and noted my companions. Varric and Josephine spoke with several matronly dwarves bedecked in jewels. One, the middle-aged of them and the most impressive looking, held a small white cat in her arms and stroked its fur in a bored manner. Vivienne was busy chatting up two bearded men wearing chevalier plumes and fine masks. Solas was nowhere to be seen. Though very few people could see him I watched Cole slink along the hall listening in on different conversations. Dorian was talking animatedly with a Chantry cleric bedazzled in her traditional robe and garb. Blackwall looked bored, standing in the opposite corner of the room pretending to listen to a clutch of Fereldan-looking women who waved their hands and fussed over something the Grey Warden had no apparent interest in. The sound of laughter reached my ears and I saw Cullen chuckling alongside two men in armor. Lastly was Leliana, who spoke quietly to a dark-haired woman with golden eyes.

"This is the lamest party I've been to," Bull snorted.

"Is it the lack of orgies that's bothering you?" I laughed.

"That and the lack of dwarven ale. Where do I get my hands on some of that?"

"Talk to Josephine. I'm sure she could pull a few strings."

"Can we leave now?"

"No," I replied. "We need to talk to Celene. We'll wait for her to show up, _no matter how long it takes_."

"You don't need me right now, as your protection I mean? You've got your girlfriend with you and I know you can chop off the head of anyone who bothers you."

"Unfortunately, my barehanded skull-crushing abilities are a little on the low side, so I do need you, but probably not until we see Celene. If I let you go, will you promise not to get into trouble?"

Bull was already five steps away and said over his shoulder, "_Mayhem_," and then winked out of his good eye. With Bull gone Cassandra and I were alone, a nice rarity when we were on the road or on a mission.

"He said girlfriend," Cassandra pointed out.

"Indeed he did." I saw the rise of red in her cheeks and ears, blooming like a rose in summer. I laughed and asked, "Why? Does it embarrass you that everyone knows?"

She gently punched my shoulder. "Don't be an ass, Trevelyan."

I shrugged. "Too late."

"Shouldn't we be doing something, anyways? Instead of standing here?"

"I was thinking of finding a corner to ravish you in."

The Seeker guffawed. "How romantic."

"You are, after all," I started, touching the back of her hand with gentle fingers and bringing the smooth flesh to my lips, "very beautiful tonight."

Cassandra rolled her eyes at me and pulled her hand away. "Stop it. Keep talking like that and you and I will both do something that we will later regret."

"Promises, promises."

"We should go and find people to talk to. I'm sure we can find _someone_," she said, sounding desperate. The scarlet color of her cheeks and ears was telling. With a flourish of fabric she stalked away and toward the gathered masses of masked people.

Feeling a bit hot under the collar from our flirty interlude, I willed myself to suppress the overwhelming desire to make a fool of myself with Cassandra and followed her into the crowd. Most people stared, some people bowed or curtsied, some whispered "Inquisitor" and others "Herald" reverently as I passed, and a lot of them ignored me. I didn't care one way or another. My job was not to care about how they responded to me, but to do an impossible job that I didn't think I would actually be able to.

I found Cassandra standing with Leliana and the unmasked raven-haired woman with gold eyes. As I approached, Leliana made an introduction.

"Inquisitor, this is Morrigan, arcane advisor to Empress Celene. Morrigan this is Emrys Trevelyan, the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste."

"Herald of Andraste?" the woman Morrigan asked, raising an eyebrow at me. "Quite a pretentious title. Is it your preference to be called the Herald?"

"Not really," I chuckled. "Inquisitor is fine. Pleasure to meet you, Morrigan."

Morrigan stared at me as if she were studying me. She titled her head to Leliana's direction and asked, "He looks like him, does he not?"

I wondered whom they were talking about. Obviously me, but in reference to someone else.

"He does," Leliana replied.

"It must drive you to madness, Leliana. I feel sorry for you."

"No more than I feel sorry for you, Morrigan. How is your boy, after all?"

Morrigan laughed and waved a hand at the bard, as if to dismiss her question. "He is fine. A bit brash, but with all the childish kindness of his father."

"I'm sorry, who are you talking about?" Cassandra interrupted.

"Oh, no one that concerns you, Seeker. At least not yet."

It was clear that these two women knew each other. And it was clear that there was something shared between them.

"So, you are the Empress's arcane advisor?" I asked, changing the subject. "What exactly do you do?"

"I advise her Radiance on arcane matters." Morrigan blinked at me, a look on her face that could have made the most knowledgeable of beings feel like a simpleton.

"Aptly put, Morrigan," Leliana mumbled.

Just then a blast of trumpets rang throughout the great hall, spelling out a royal canon. Everyone turned their attention to the front of the hall, where upon a tall dais stood an empty throne and a large man in purple and gold finery wearing a lion-shaped half-mask enameled with ivory. His face was painted white beneath the mask, marking his status as an important servant in Celene's household.

"All rise for her Radiance, Empress Celene I, Empress of Orlais!"

I watched a silver-blonde woman step out of from golden doors and into the great hall. She wore a finer mask than her servant; moonstone crusted with diamonds and amethysts and flecked with gold. Her royal dress was even finer – all billowing silk, satin, and velvet, trimmed with intricate lace and dyed in hues of violet and gold and silver. The dress left her pale lean shoulders bare. Draped over her arms and swishing down the train of her dress was an ermine fur-lined cloak. A regal crown of gold set with rubies, amethysts, and emeralds sat atop her head. She looked expressionless in her mask as she descended the steps and entered into the great hall. Elven servants – appearing in fine rags compared to Celene – followed her and held the train of her dress as she descended, and arranged the train as she ascended the dais and sat on her throne.

"Welcome," she said, her voice carrying out across the hall. It sounded like steel and silk, wrapped in honey and oozing with power. One word, that was all she said, and the great hall trembled.

The gathered crowd bowed collectively before her. Everyone except me.

…

"You must have quite a bit of courage to refuse to bow at my own party, Inquisitor," said Celene to me in the confines of her study. "Or stupidity. The two are often interchangeable."

"I've also found that to be true, your Radiance."

She sipped champagne from a diamond-crusted goblet and smirked at me. After swallowing, she asked, "So tell me, Inquisitor, is it courage or stupidity that has brought you to me on this night?"

Celene took off her mask once we entered the study. I saw a fair, handsome woman beneath the hardness and secrecy of the mask. Her skin was pale and flawless, powdered to perfection. A betrayal of her age, even though she was not very old at all; perhaps in her late thirties. I couldn't remember.

"Who can say what virtue it is, your Radiance? If it is virtue at all to attend the party of a woman in desperate need of my help."

"Ah. I see you are not one for foreplay, Inquisitor. You like to get right down to the matter. It must be your heritage as a Free Marcher."

I recognized that the last bit was meant to wound me, to see if it would offend me. Celene played a Game, a very dangerous one, when it came to politics; she was provoking me to gauge whether I was also a player or merely a pretender. Even a change in the expression of my face or a shift in my posture could give me away. But Celene knew very little about me; the Games played by the nobles of the Free Marches were much more deadly than those of the Orlesians, and they were Games that I had played long and well in Ostwick.

"Or it could be that I place more importance on the lack of time we have to save Thedas, your Radiance, than on playing petty Games with you. I have something you need, Majesty, so it is better to play your cards rather than to try and cheat."

She smirked, just the slightest hint of muscles twitching around her mouth. In the Orlesian Game, it would have said many things, but in the privacy of her study, it meant that I was right and she knew it.

"Yes, you do have what I need. You have an army that can get me back to Val Royeaux. While I may have rallied enough nobles to support my position rather than Gaspard's, he has rallied an army of thugs and mercenaries and half-baked chevaliers to try and stop me. He may hold the field of battle, but I hold the people's hearts."

"If that is what you think, Radiance."

"Inquisitor, if you and your army can return me to Val Royeaux, I will help you. I will give you what you want."

"Cheap words coming from a woman who once promised her lover that she would restore the elves in her empire."

Celene sipped again from her goblet. "It was my intention—"

"Intentions are for politics, Radiance," I snapped. "I am dealing with an _actual_ threat to – not just Orlais – all of Thedas. I don't want your intentions. I want the army you will gain once Gaspard lays down his arms and puts aside his feud for the throne. And I want it in writing, with consequences if you do not give me what I ask for. The consequences of failure in this matter are steep, your Radiance, and everyone will suffer for it. But if you break your oath to me, then the consequences should cost you more than the lives of your people."

"You ask for much, Inquisitor," Celene remarked. "You speak as if I do have something to lose."

"If you are restored to your seat in Val Royeaux, but you break your promise to the Inquisition and we fail, you _will_ lose. Everyone will lose."

"Well then, if that is true, I wish to know more of your plan. How exactly do you plan on transporting me halfway across my empire without me getting killed?"

"With intentions, your Radiance."

…

"Well, Crazy, this is pretty fucking stupid, and I've seen a lot of it in my life."

"Thanks for letting me know, Varric. Your input is appreciated," I laughed as I slid the whetstone down my longsword.

"She'll stab us all in the back if she can," the dwarf warned.

"I know."

Varric threw a glance at Cassandra and growled. "Have you tried reasoning with him?"

"Have you tried telling mountains to move, Varric?" Cassandra retorted.

"Good point." He raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. Fine, Inquisitor. We'll do what we have to, but just know that I don't like it." He shook his head as he walked away from the campfire.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Cassandra asked once he was gone. "Celene is…good at playing her games. She could be playing you."

"And I could be playing her, for all she knows," I replied, examining the edge of my sword. "And Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons could be playing all of us. Who knows? What I know, Cass, is that we need Val Royeaux and the Empire in our pocket if we are to have any chance of winning this war."

"You're talking about chevaliers and nobles and armies, Trevelyan, when you should be more worried about gathering mages to our cause."

"We cannot have one without the other. Power creates more power." I grabbed the whetstone again and placed it against the metal of my blade. "The mages need to know that they have a friend."

"And putting Celene back on her throne will do that?"

"Celene is very interested in magic."

"That's it? She's interested in it?"

I laughed. "Have a little faith, Seeker. You, after all, were the one who told me I was the only one who could do this, am I right? You are the one who believed me when I walked out of the Fade."

"After I threatened to kill you," she said. "And sometimes, when you do stupid things like this, the thought crosses my mind to try again."

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smelt like dust and pine, the perfume of travel. She wore it well, no matter how much I wished she were in that fancy Orlesian dress.

"Just trust me, Cass."

She shook her head. "Fine. All right. I will."

…

The stench of stagnant water and city refuse made me queasy. I forced myself not to think about what was actually in the slush that my companions and I waded through. Even though my noble father put me on a track to become a physician, I don't think I ever could have. The smells would have overwhelmed me.

"This way," Cole whispered as he wended his way through the underground tunnels of Val Royeaux.

"There had to be a better way than this," Celene complained. I looked back at her; she covered her nose with a scarf, meanwhile holding out one of her bloodied daggers. We had a little trouble getting into the tunnels. No one was more surprised than I was when the Empress of Orlais gracefully took down several of our foes. The whispers of her training as a bard appeared to be true.

"Afraid not," Cole replied. "Too many people up top. You would have been seen."

"What's your name again?" the Empress asked.

I saw the look on Cole's face change to one of sadness. To console him and keep him moving, I put a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Cole. How much farther is it?"

"The palace is just ahead."

I nodded to him. "Good. Let's get going."

…

"Well, that could've gone a little better."

I pretended not to notice the anger and bitterness in Celene's tone when she spoke to me. And I pretended also that her comment didn't irritate me; it wasn't as if I had lost a few hundred soldiers in the process of putting Celene back on her throne in Val Royeaux. She lost a handful of loyal guards. She had no concept of the tragedy that would befall and the lives that would be lost if the Inquisition failed.

"You are here, your Radiance. I have upheld my end of the deal. It is time you upheld yours."

She poured herself some tea – Rivaini spice, if I could tell by the smell of it – and added milk and sugar once it settled. After sitting down in one of her plush leather chairs, she motioned for me to join her.

"Yes, Inquisitor. I will give you what you want. I don't have it all quite yet, but I will shortly, if I can count on the noble's pride and sense of preservation. Gaspard is still on the loose, however, so I cannot guarantee his army. But I will contribute what I have all the same." She breathed in the steam of her tea and it seemed to relax her. She settled deeper into the leather. "I will also declare Orlais a safe haven for all mages, despite my personal thoughts on the matter. But on the matter of the elves, I cannot grant you that part of the bargain."

I leaned forward in my chair, bracing my elbows on my knees. "Are you breaking our deal?"

"I am amending it," she replied dismissively. She took a sip from her tea. "If I grant citizenship to the elves as you propose I do, I will surely be uprooted from my position as Empress quicker than I can let the words out. The nobles are a fickle bunch and yet I must rely on them to maintain my position. I cannot have both the safety of mages and the citizenship of elves; it is simply not the time for it. I can give you one, even though that alone will cost me greatly."

I shook my head. "You are an oath-breaker, your Radiance."

She grinned at me over her cup of tea. "I am the ruler of a fragile empire, Inquisitor. You speak honeyed words but mix them with venom. Your threats will not go unforgotten, but my small part of our deal will not go unbroken. You will have what you want. But as for the elves, there is no compromise. Not today."

"And Morrigan?"

"I have given her leave to join you and your Inquisition. You will need her, as she says. Though, be warned: she is not the kind of woman easily controlled by anyone. She has a mind of her own."

"I don't want to control her, your Radiance, but I will use whatever skills she has."

"Just be warned, Inquisitor."

…

"We'll leave for Skyhold first thing tomorrow morning. Some of our agents will remain in Val Royeaux to ensure that Celene upholds her promises. Josephine will be in Antiva for a week, Leliana is going to Redcliffe, and Cullen is mobilizing our forces against the Red Templars in Crestwood. How did Varric do with the Carta?"

In the sanctity of the palace chamber so kindly provided by our host Cassandra and I went over the minor details of our adventure to Val Royeaux – and the promises and profits we had reaped in doing so.

Cassandra handed me a piece of paper, a letter. "Dame Cadash apparently lost her eldest daughter at the Chantry conclave. She wants this problem dealt with just as much as we do, so she has promised assistance in our efforts."

I quickly scanned the letter, which was from Dame Cadash of the dwarven Carta. It was a promise of supplies, free lyrium trade, and some other benefits, should we choose to use them; not exactly "legal", but who had time for that in war?

"Good. And Vivienne?"

"Was able to get in contact with Grand Enchanter Fiona. She wants to meet you."

I sat down, relieved to hear that everything had worked as well as it did. "Wow. You realize, Cass, that we are doing the impossible? Getting all these people to work together?"

"I do. I had my doubts about you, Trevelyan, but I still believed in you. And you are doing it."

I shrugged and then motioned for her to join me. She smirked and sauntered over to sit on the armrest of the chair I occupied. I tapped a finger against her knee.

"I mean, of course I have help, so that makes it easier."

I placed a hand at the nape of her neck so that I could pull her lips down to mine. It was a very simple, gentle kiss.

"What would I do without you?" I asked.

"Probably ruin everything," she laughed.

I loved watching her laugh. She didn't do it often enough, but these were not joyous times. Or perhaps they were; for one selfish reason, a reason that remained hidden in the small intimate moments between us.

"You're right, I probably would."

Her hand ran over the plane of my jaw and cheek, scratching against stubble. She gazed at me fondly and bit her lip as if she had something to say. I saw a moment's hesitation in her eyes. She released her lip and croaked, "I love you, Trevelyan."

My hand at the back of her neck tightened and as I drew her again to me, I whispered back, "I love you too, Cass."

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed. Please review!<p> 


	5. And He Shall Guide Their Hands

Part 5 of my story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._ **This is a longer chapter with smut ahead.**

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"And the Maker Shall Guide Their Hands"

"Maker's breath," Cassandra sighed.

My hands slid underneath her tunic to touch the skin of her waist. Muscles in her abdomen tightened beneath my touch. She was on fire, burning with desire and the thrill of romantic passion. I wanted to reach every part of her skin; to touch and kiss, to delight and wonder in all that she was. I wanted to be consumed in her flames.

She shivered as my teeth nipped on the flesh of her throat and she sighed as I pressed my other hand against the base of her spine, asking her to bring herself closer to me. Cass relented and our hips touched. Her fingers were wild in my hair, sending tingles along my back and gathering in places not yet revealed.

Maker, I wanted her so bad.

"Okay, Trevelyan," she growled, her hands still in my hair and her body still tight against mine, "it's time to stop."

I wasn't convinced. I brought my face back up to meet hers. Before kissing her on the mouth I asked, "Are you sure?"

She tugged on my lower lip after the kiss. "We both need sleep. Maker knows we're not going to get it if I let you in," she said in reference to her room, the door of which we found ourselves fastened to. As Cass slowly extricated herself from my grasp she bit at my chin and then added, "It doesn't mean I don't want you."

"I know," I replied. I put my forehead against hers and kissed her brow. "Whenever you're ready, Cass."

I held her for a moment longer, like a taster who has sampled from the finest food allows the flavors to sit on his palette. I would need a cold bath when I returned to my own room, I was certain of that.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said. "Bright and early."

I smiled at her and backed slowly down the hall. "Nothing could keep me from you."

…

"The Red Templars grow more bold each day, Inquisitor," Cullen reminded me for the tenth time that week.

"We are doing all that we can, but it's never enough." I rubbed a hand over my face and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as I gathered my thoughts together to form sentences. "What do you know about them, Cullen?"

"Very little, I'm afraid, but Leliana has a contact in—"

The door to the war room swung wide open and Cassandra stepped in. Her eyebrows knit together and there was a rare look of panic in her eyes. She held something in her hand; it looked like a purple stone the size of her fist.

"What's wrong, Cass?" I asked, before Cullen could chide her for interrupting us.

She said nothing and I knew it meant she didn't want Cullen to hear it.

"Commander, would you mind giving us a minute?" I asked the former Templar captain.

"Inquisitor," he nodded, brushing past Cassandra on his way out the door.

Once we were alone Cass came closer and held out her hand to me, presenting the object clasped within her fingers for me to take. I took the stone from her; it was about the size of my palm. At first glance it looked like an amethyst with a flat face and angular cuts around the edges, but upon further examination I realized that this was not an ordinary gemstone. On its face in small intrinsic runes was a message. It read:

"Righty, In trouble. Need help. Red Templars in Montsimmard. Mages attacked."

I had very little idea what it meant. I handed the stone back to Cassandra.

"What is it? And who's it from?"

She held up the stone and explained, "This is an elven communication stone. I'm not sure how it works. But in the events that made me the Right Hand of the Divine I met a Circle mage named Regalyan D'Marcall. Our enemies used these to communicate and once they were dead Galyan and I used them. The stones were helpful. Over the last few years I haven't heard from Galyan, but now there's this."

"He calls you 'Righty'?" I asked. I wasn't sure if it was funny or not.

"My codename – stands for Right Hand of the Divine. We used it so that I knew it was him and not anyone else trying to communicate with me. But the point is that he's in trouble with the Red Templars. He needs me."

It was interesting statement to hear from the woman who professed to love me. It was a silly thing to feel, but a twinge of jealousy was an inevitable feeling. It sucked the breath out of my lungs and left me staring at her for a moment, wondering how to respond. But I loved this woman; this closet-romantic, this brash and bold warrior, this strong and resolute Seeker – and I would do anything for her.

"We can be in Montsimmard in two days if we leave today," I finally replied.

"You'll help me?" she asked. I could see the panic in her eyes slowly begin to fade. The crease between her eyebrows flattened and her face turned softer.

"Of course I will." I kissed her forehead. "This is important to you, so it's important to me."

She nodded. "Thank you, Trevelyan."

"Let's get Cullen back in here. If there are Red Templars in Monstimmard, we might be able to kill two birds with one stone."

…

"I remember Regalyan," Vivienne sniffed. "He was a decent mage and a good man. I was not aware of your relationship with him, Cassandra."

I tensed at Vivienne's use of the word 'relationship'. My fingers gripped my horse's reins tighter. One of my knuckles popped.

"He's just an old friend, Vivienne," Cass replied.

"Whose aid we are blindly rushing to, but if it as you say…" I heard Vivienne huff. "He was rather handsome too, as I recall."

I wanted Vivienne to stop talking, but at the moment couldn't think of a friendly way to ask. Instead, I urged my horse on to a canter.

As I was almost out of earshot, I heard the former Circle mage continue, "I wonder what he is doing in Monstimmard. Last I knew all the other mages were gathered at Andoral's Reach. Well, obviously not _all_ of them…"

At camp that night, I sat by the fire with Cole showing him the card trick I learned as a child. He was fascinated by the way one card disappeared, only to reappear when I flicked my hand.

"Do it again," he said, squinting at my hands in a focused manner.

As I was about to do the trick for the fifth time, Cassandra interrupted. "I'll take first watch," she said. She sounded tired. I could hear the strain in her voice. "I'll wake up Vivienne at midnight."

"Wonderful," the mage responded. "There is no such thing as beauty sleep on the road, is there?"

I showed the card trick to Cole a few more times. He wanted to try it so I showed him how to do it. By the end of the lesson, he almost had it down.

After both Vivienne and Cole settled in for the night, I approached Cassandra, who stood at the edge of our camp. One hand settled on the hilt of her sword and her eyes scanned the darkness beyond the fire's glow for signs of danger.

"How are you doing?" I asked her. I sat on a nearby rock with my palms facedown on my knees.

"I'm… Fine."

The same tired strain was just as audible then as it was back at our campsite. I didn't believe her, not for a minute.

"Are you sure?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Don't worry about me, Inquisitor. You have other things to worry about."

"I do worry about you, Cass. It's part of who I am to be concerned for you."

"I can take care of myself," she huffed unconvincingly.

"I know you can," I started. "But I still want to know what's going on inside your head. You've been very quiet."

"Emrys…"

"Yes, Cassandra?" I waited patiently for her to continue.

"It's Galyan. It's the mages and the Red Templars. It's everything about this situation. It's you."

"What do you mean?"

She relaxed a little and her body slackened, like the way a taut bowstring coiled for action unwinds as an arrow is released. She didn't look at me, but she finally put a voice to the words that were on her mind.

"I owe a debt to Galyan. He saved my life many years ago. But I'm worried about him and I'm worried that we won't get to him in time. He's better at healing than battle magic and with the Red Templars after him I'm afraid that we will get there to find corpses. And you… You just came to help me. You could've left me to do it myself. And I wouldn't blame you if you thought there was something more between Galyan and I."

"Was there?"

"Maybe once, in the rush of events all those years ago. But he went back to the Circle and I went back to the Seekers, so nothing ever happened. I never had a chance to ask him…"

"Do you regret not asking him?"

She finally looked at me. Cassandra smiled as she replied, "Not anymore."

But you did, before me – was my first thought. And then I realized how unfair it was to hold her feelings against her and compare Cassandra's friendship with Galyan to my relationship with her. They had been friends for a very long time, while in comparison I had only known her a short time. I was an arse, it turned out. A jealous, selfish arse. The realization was not as shocking as it should have been.

"If he's still alive, we'll save him, Cass. I'll do whatever it takes."

"I know."

…

It seemed that wherever the Red Templars went so did their red lyrium. And wherever there was red lyrium, there was bound to be something disturbing and demonic nearby. They had taken over Montsimmard. The once beautiful Orlesian city was a wasteland, desecrated with giant spikes of lyrium. The crystals crept out of cracks in the street, overflowed into the buildings, and loomed alongside the spires and towers.

"If not for the war," said Vivienne as we fought our way through a mob of templars, "this would have been my home."

Cassandra cut down a templar as he raised his sword above his head, laughed, and asked, "Are you sure you still want it now, Enchanter?"

"There's too much red here," Vivienne retorted, stuffing an ice cone into the face of a Red Templar who threatened to disembowel Cassandra.

The further we went into the city, the more chaos and destruction we saw.

"Do you hear it?" Cole asked.

"Hear what? The screams of the people coming from down the street?" I asked, joking.

"The song. It is…angry."

"He's talking about the lyrium," Vivienne explained. "I can hear it too."

"Well then, let's try to do this quickly," I said.

…

"What in Andraste's name is _that_?" I yelled, watching the mass of red lyrium spikes and demented Templar armor turn and face us.

No one had time to answer my question, as the entire Void seemed to break loose half a moment later. I felt the sinister vibration of the Fade, smelt the familiar sulfur-tinged odor, and knew that somewhere near the Veil had been ripped apart.

One thing at a time, I reminded myself, hacking at the red creature in front of me. Cole pointed out weak spots, like the twisted Templar helm that barely protruded from the epicenter of the crimson crystals. The creature bellowed and raised a spiked arm to batter against Cassandra's upraised shield. Vivienne focused her attacks upon the center of the creature, sending ice spikes and crackles of lightning to its heart. Meanwhile, Cassandra, Cole, and I danced a deathly dance around the monster, hacking and slicing and cutting, praying for an open spot.

I heard a crack from within the twisted vermillion crystal. The sound rippled and resonated and with one last thrust into the Templar breastplate, the lyrium beast smashed into a thousand pieces. Vivienne lit the remains on fire to ensure its demise.

On the other side of the room a group of cowering mages stood to their feet. One of them – a tall, pale-skinned man – called out, "Cassandra?"

I turned to Cassandra to see what her expression would be. She was covered in a sparkly sheen of crimson soot, grimed with the sweat of our fight, and when she saw the mage that spoke to her she looked relieved.

"Galyan!" she exclaimed. She ran across the room and the mage met her halfway to embrace her.

I turned away and strode out of the room, intent on finding the Rift in the Veil and closing it. Cole followed me, a quiet but welcome presence at the moment.

…

"Trevelyan, this is Regalyan D'Marcall. Galyan, this is the Inquisitor, Emrys Trevelyan."

I shook hands with the stranger. "Are you and your friends all right?"

"Yes, for the most part," the mage replied. I took note of the silver streaks that shocked his coffee-brown hair, as well as the mangy grizzled beard that covered his cheeks and throat. It looked like it had been a while since he had a bath. "Some of the mages turned to blood magic or became abominations, but they were no match for the Templars. We're lucky you got here when you did, Inquisitor, or we all would have been dead."

"What did the Red Templars want with you, Galyan?" Cassandra asked.

Her friend shrugged. "I have no idea. They never said anything about it, just threw us in a corner and stood watch. I'm glad this nightmare is over."

"It won't be over until the Breach is closed," the Seeker added.

"So it's true then? About the Veil ripping apart? We heard but thought it was just a rumor."

"There's more happening in Thedas than just the war. What were you doing in Montsimmard?"

"After the Empress declared Orlais a safe haven for mages, we came out of hiding in the Dales. It was too dangerous out there anyways, what with Gaspard and Celene's armies still fighting it out. We were trying to reach Weisshaupt, to join the Grey Wardens, and this was just a stop on the way."

"The road to Weisshaupt is a long and dangerous one. If starvation or dehydration doesn't kill you, something else will," I told him. "You could join us, Regalyan. You could be part of the Inquisition. You'd do more good in a position there than as a dead man in the Anderfels."

He scratched his beard, appearing to consider what I asked for a moment. Then he shrugged. "What other choice do we have? No matter where we go, we will be hunted. Thank you, my friend. We will join you."

…

"I _cannot_ wait for a bath," Vivienne declared as we approached Skyhold. "I smell worse than a bronto sitting in its own filth."

"We haven't had a bath in _weeks_, Enchanter," Regalyan contested.

"And you smell it too, my friend," she laughed.

Once we were in the keep, Josephine arranged accommodations for our new mage friends. The servants whisked them away for bathing, but before they left Regalyan approached Cassandra. He touched her hand and kissed her cheek as he whispered something into her ear. She laughed – _giggled_ rather – and whispered a reply. I looked away, feeling both like I was invading Cass's privacy and a bit jealous.

I needed a bath. Before leaving, I briefly mentioned to Cassandra that I would see her later. She nodded in response and said she had her own things to take care of as well. A hot bath was the remedy for all ailments, my mother once told me a long time ago. She was not wrong. It washed away the grime of the road and the blood of the Templars and eased the aches in my body. I didn't spend very long in the tub because I wanted to get back to business. It was not yet dark and there was still quite a bit that I could do before retiring for the night.

I was fully dressed when I heard the entry door to my chamber open and the sound of walking. I had a feeling it might be a servant come to fetch me and bring me back to the war room to discuss matters with my advisors.

But I was pleasantly surprised to discover Cassandra coming up the stairs and into the chamber. Her hair was wet, freshly braided, and she was dressed casually in a tunic and trousers.

"Sorry, I let myself in," she said.

"You're always welcome here, Cass." I offered her the chair behind my desk, but she preferred to lean up against the furniture.

I inquired about Galyan and if he and the others had settled in.

"Yes. Yet again, Josephine managed another miracle. I don't know how she finds housing for all the people we have running around here."

"It's a big place. One could easily get lost in it," I replied.

She sat back on the desk and crossed her arms. "Trevelyan," she started, "I just wanted to thank you for what you did for Galyan and the others. And for me. Like I said before, you didn't have to help, but you did. And you didn't have to invite them to join us, but you did. I appreciate it. It means…a lot to me."

"I'd help anyone, Cass, especially you. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me," she said, turning away and pacing towards the arched window nearby. She gripped the side and looked out. I moved closer to hear her as she spoke. "Galyan is important to me. I'm glad he's safe now. But you're important to me too, Trevelyan, more than you could know. People often look at me and put me in a box with the other pious Chantry crusaders. They think I'm the kind of woman whose first love is the Maker and her second is the Chantry. I look different too, from a lot of women. I don't act like them either. I can't be like them because it's not who I am and yet I was judged for it all my younger life. But you… Emrys, you're different from everyone else I've met before. You don't put me in that box."

It was good to hear her say these things. I could tell she wanted to say them before, but we never found the time for it.

She turned to face me. "Even if we weren't together, even if I didn't love you and we were just friends, I'd still be grateful to you for the way that you treat me."

I said, "A Chantry cleric once told me that we are all the children of the Maker. And if the Maker doesn't exist then we all live in the same world and might as well try to get along."

She chuckled and shook her head at me. I took a step closer until I stood in front of her, looking down at her face. Maker, I wanted to touch her; I wanted to be physically reminded of her commitment to me.

"What did Regalyan say to you before I left?" I asked her, examining her eyelashes. She was beautiful.

Cassandra smiled. "He said that I was lucky to have you and that he was happy for me."

"Really? That's it? No request for a walk in the moonlight? No notes of poetry? That's all he said?"

"Someone sounds a little jealous."

I touched her cheek and the tips of my fingers crept along her hard cheekbones. "Of course I was. But I know you, and I trust you, and I love you, Cassandra." I had never been more truthful in my life.

She touched my shoulder, bringing me close to her, and then reached up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. My palm flattened against her cheek, my fingers curling the wisps of hair around her ear. Cassandra sighed into the kiss when the fingers of my other hand kneaded into her hip.

Shuddering, she pulled back from the kiss long enough to quietly say, "You have no reason to be jealous. I want _you_." She closed her eyes briefly and pressed her face against my hand. She kissed my palm and her eyes opened again. "I _want _you, Trevelyan."

I could not put a voice to the words that would reciprocate my want of her, so I put those words into action instead. I found her mouth greedy and waiting for me to kiss her. Her tongue flicked into my mouth and I trapped it there. Cass bit my tongue, ever so gently, and I released. Her back hit the wall beside the window. She pulled me with her.

I didn't realize what she was doing until my tunic lay on the floor, and by then I lost all sense of self-restraint and cupped her breasts over her shirt. My throat was dry, my lips were on fire, and I wanted to touch her everywhere. Cassandra struggled with her tunic, so I grabbed at the fabric and heaved it up over her shoulders and off her arms. As she worked the bindings around her breasts, I kissed her throat and slid my hands into her trousers to grab the naked flesh of her hips.

She let out an unholy moan when I did and faltered in her work. I helped her, grasping at the fabric that bound her chest. Cass's hands grabbed at the buckle around my trousers and metal clinked as she undid it. I was halfway done with her breast bindings when I felt her warm hand down the front of my trousers.

"Maker," she prayed, grasping at me.

I picked her up, not caring that we were both half-undressed, and carried her across the room to lay her down on my bed. Cass finished the breast bindings and tore them away, throwing the linen on the floor. She meant to sit up, her hands ready again to grab at my trousers, but I stopped her by laying a hand against her stomach.

I wanted to look at her. I had wanted to see every inch of her skin for a long, long time, and now that I had that chance I was not going to throw it away for some quick roll in the hay. No matter how much I ached to take her, I would bide my time with Cassandra.

"Trev," she moaned, biting her lips and scrabbling to hold on to me.

I lowered myself over her and she latched around me, fingernails digging into the skin of my back. I studied her neck – a place I was already well acquainted with – and let my lips touch the line of her beating pulse. Her throat and clavicles followed after; I was the good student who spent his time examining every goosebump and ripple in her skin. Beneath her clavicles was her sternum, the bone that shielded her steel heart. I decided that this area needed ample attention. Cass squirmed against me, sliding her hands up and down my back until she grew so anxious that she began tugging my trousers down my hips. I let her, and continued my research.

I found her right breast to be of particular admiration; the slope, curve, and swell of it were mesmerizing. Even more evident of these attributes was the pebbled brown areola, an anchor to which my lips fastened themselves. I felt her body arch into mine and I slid an arm beneath her to secure her position there. She breathed heavily with each swipe of my tongue and pulse of my hand. After thoroughly engaging with her right breast, I turned to her left, deciding that no good student could adequately capture all the facts without seeing both sides.

"Maker… Oh," she canted, her words growing more and more ungodly as I spent more time exploring her.

When I finally considered myself versed enough on the subject of Cassandra's breasts, I advanced further down to kiss their undersides before nipping with my teeth at the skin pulled taut over her abdomen. Her muscles clenched and relaxed with each staggering breath she drew in and out. I discovered the existence of a small indentation of flesh midway between her breasts and hipbones, slightly above the waistband of her trousers. I buried my nose in that little indentation – a belly button, I had heard it often called. Cassandra gasped and giggled. She was ticklish.

"Trevelyan!" she squealed, playfully cuffing the top of my head.

I glanced up at her for a moment, relinquishing my assault on her navel, and rested my chin on her stomach. "Cassandra," I crowed in return, smirking and returning to my studies.

I decided that the obtrusive garment covering her lower legs needed to be removed, so I gripped the waistband in my fingers and pulled. She wriggled her hips back and forth until the trousers came free. I sat up on my knees to pull her boots and the remains of her trousers from her legs and toss them to the floor. My gaze finally fell to her naked form and I took in the full sight of her.

My professional opinion led me to believe that she was without flaw; the scars that marked her body simply added character, the moles accented her natural beauty, the brown birthmark on her thigh declared her perfection, and the freckles that sprinkled her chest and neck existed solely as a complicated map leading to an invaluable treasure. My breath came out heavy and even; there were so many things I wanted to do to her, now that I had seen her.

"Take off your trousers," she demanded. "I want to see you too."

Cassandra had pulled my trousers halfway down my rump so it was not difficult to remove what remained. I kicked off my boots and sat back on my thighs when I was finished. I saw the way her eyes flickered in the glow of the light from the fireplace. I saw the way she looked at me.

She crawled towards me and clawed her hands down my thighs, leaning forward to capture my lips. My hands settled on her backside and I used my strength to pull her into me. Her legs parted to straddle my lap and I nearly came undone at the warmth of her body so close to mine. Cass was content to kiss and touch; my hands instead of my lips now explored her body – the curve of her shoulders, the coiled muscles in her forearms, the slope of her waist, the base of her spine, the firmness of her rump, the strength of her thighs, and the hard muscle of her calves. After my hands discovered each area I held her to me tightly and sent a silent thank you to the Maker for fashioning Cassandra Pentaghast as he had.

Her hot mouth moved to my cheek and her hand slithered sensually down my chest and touched the bit of space that was left between us. My eyes settled on hers, backing away so that I could look at her. I needed to know that this what she wanted, that she still wanted to do this.

Cassandra nodded to me. Her hand fondled me and I gasped. She kissed my nose and whispered, "I want _you_, Trevelyan, and just you."

I was a knowledgeable adventurer caught up in the wonder of her exploration, not knowing how to find what it was I was searching for. But by the end of the night, I discovered exactly that, and Cassandra – my believer – showed it to me.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Please review if you feel so led.<p> 


	6. May the Maker Watch Over You

Part 6 of my story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._ **Major smutty one-shot ahead.**

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"May the Maker Watch Over You"

Making love was comparable to the ecstasy of religion. She was my church, the holy sepulcher in which I adored, but she was also the object of my worship. I could praise her all day, pray to her every minute, and pay penance to her every second. I wanted to chant her praises to every corner of Thedas. When it came to making love to her I was the most pious of believers and devout of followers.

Cassandra had been acting strange all morning. She appeared antsy and agitated as we all gathered around the war table. Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine spoke strategy, but Cassandra didn't seem to be paying attention; it was unlike her to be so distracted. Iron Bull and Sera updated us on the information supplied by their agents. Vivienne pitched in with a message she received from the former Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Fiona and the whispers she heard there. It was a lot of business. Cassandra was usually the one who added a tidbit or asked an extra question, but not today.

Near noon, the council stopped to take a break. We had an hour before I sat on the throne in the main hall of Skyhold and played the roles of judge, jury, and executioner. I had to stay behind in the war room when Josephine asked me a question, but when I was finished I looked up to see where Cassandra had gone. She was nowhere to be found. So I went looking for her.

She was normally outside; I thought it odd that she didn't stay behind in the war room. I was halfway out of the main hall when I heard footsteps coming towards me and I turned to see whom it was. Cassandra walked rapidly in my direction, her face as hard to read as a tome in an indecipherable language.

"There you are," I said, reaching for her. "I was looking for—"

She cut me off with a brutal kiss that made my head spin. Then she pulled away abruptly, grabbed my hand, and said, "Come with me."

I couldn't say no – didn't want to – so I went with her. She pulled me along the empty corridors of the keep, never stopping until we reached the side-door entrance to the Chantry chapel. Cassandra pushed the door open, still holding my hand, and entered. She locked the door behind us and then proceeded into the empty chapel until we stood on the dais, where the altar to Andraste stood silent and alone.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, postulating her answer but needing verification. "What's the matter?"

She pushed me against the altar and kissed me hard again. Cass bit my lips and our tongues twined; her fingers raked against my scalp as she pulled at my hair; her body pressed firmly against mine and I felt myself stiffen at the sudden contact.

"I need you," she said breathlessly, her lips leaving mine so she could bite a trail down my chin to my throat.

I kept my eyes closed and my hands on her hips, feeling her desire in every nip and lick and kiss. She was an aggressive biter – I quickly discovered this in our bedroom escapades – and Cass did not hold back then. A thousand tiny pinpricks lined the expanse of my neck and jaw.

I stopped her, grabbing onto both sides of her head. "What if someone comes in?"

"They won't."

Cassandra dove back in to slant her mouth over mine. I decided that if she didn't think it mattered, then neither did I. My hand groped at her breasts and then ducked into her trousers to feel her wet heat. She shuddered and then grabbed onto my wrist, stopping me.

"Not yet," she breathed, pulling my hand out of her trousers.

Before I could decide what to do to her next, Cassandra knelt on the ground in front of me. Her fingers undid the belt around my waist.

"You don't have to," I told her, even though I wanted her to.

She grumbled something I couldn't hear above the noise of her releasing the belt buckle and pulling my trousers down in one swift motion. The cold air hit my thighs and I hissed. My manhood stood at half-mast, throbbing and needing to be touched. Cassandra didn't hesitate. She licked the tip of my shaft before proceeding to take the whole thing in her mouth down to the hilt. My head fell back. I resisted the urge to thrust like a wanton madman.

Cassandra sucked and licked and stroked, for how long I couldn't say – time seemed irrelevant in that moment – and my length hardened beneath her touch. My right hand twisted in her raven-black hair, as if it would help to anchor me to her. Maker, the way she made me feel – even without her mouth – was indescribable. I wanted her and I wanted to be inside her.

I gripped the back of her head to stop her. She let go of my length and looked up at me.

"Come here," I said, pulling her up to me.

She smirked. I kissed the lips possessing that smirk and then pinned her against the altar. Cassandra was already in the process of pulling down her trousers. I expedited the process by aggressively jerking the leather down past her hips. There she was, bare before my gaze, waiting for me. She might have claimed to need me, but I was the one who couldn't breathe without her.

Cass stepped out of her trousers, leaving them on the floor, and my hands grabbed her firm rump so I could lift her up. I held her in my arms and then deposited her on the altar. Cass spread her legs for me; her fingers looped into my waistband; she pulled me against her, but I pulled back and with no warning buried my face in between her legs. She yelped, giggled, and then crooned as I assaulted her clit with long slow licks of my tongue. She quivered when my fingers teased her entrance.

I was a starving man at a feast and Cassandra was the meal. She grabbed the back of my head and grinded her lips against my mouth, moaning and mewling when I touched a particular area just the way she liked.

Amusedly, I pondered what level of sacrilege it was to eat a woman out on the altar of Andraste.

My shaft was a hard rod peeking out of my trousers, and I ached to be inside her. I drew my tongue up the length of her heat one last time. As I looked up at her I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth and winked at her.

"Maker, I need you now," she growled, grabbing onto me.

I stood to my feet, pushing myself against her. My shaft slipped between her legs, touching but not entering. I made sure to kiss her gently when I slid inside her. We both forgot to breathe for a moment. She sighed and kissed my neck, then said, "Please, Trev. Please," even as she scrabbled to tighten her hold around me.

My pace started out slowly and grew more intense. The slap of flesh and the erratic pattern of our breathing were the only sounds audible in the chapel. She struggled to hold on to me; her hands clutched at my tunic, the back of my neck, my shoulders. Cass wrapped her thighs around my waist and kneaded her fingers into my rump, brining my thrusts harder and deeper into her.

This had to be the most authentic form of worship.

I thought of the Chantry cleric in Ostwick – the one my father hired to tutor me in the ways of Andraste so that I might one day join the church – and what she would have said as I worshipped Cassandra in the Skyhold chapel. She would have cuffed my ears and might have called fornication a sin, but how could such an act – if given to us by the Maker – feel so good and be considered so wrong? Was it inappropriate to appreciate the beauty of the woman before me, the one who whispered my name and told me "faster" and "harder"? Was it a sin to kiss and touch her most holy places of worship? It was why Cassandra was my religion, and not the Chantry – because it was an act of piety to make love with her.

I groaned, feeling my lower muscles spasm in anticipation of release. Cass knew what was coming and clutched me tighter to her. I slammed my fists onto the marble altar and used the leverage to pound hard and fast into her wet heat. Cass bit my earlobe, then she whispered, "Come for me." I lost control of my senses as I released.

Warmth and fluidity washed through me, slackening my body, destabilizing my legs. My breath was hot on her shoulder as I finished – feeling the last few spurts of seed enter her – my hips gently thrusting as I came to my final close. As I was about to pull out, Cass wrapped herself tighter around me and whispered, "No. No, just stay. Please."

I kissed her neck and hugged her in return. "Okay. I'm here." There was no way I could have stood on my own anyway.

She held me in silence, stroking the back of my neck with her fingers.

"It feels like the end of everything… I don't want this to end," Cassandra finally said, sounding sad.

I looked her in the eyes, and then brushed my nose against hers and pressed our foreheads together. "It won't if I have anything to say about it."

"I believe you," she replied, sealing my confession with one last kiss.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading. Please review, as this is only my second attempt at writing smut.<em>


	7. Gone - Just Like the Warden

Part 7 of my story, _The Believer Series. _A Trev!quisitor/Cassandra fic. ***Non-canon**, because we don't know what's going to happen in Inquisition yet. This is purely conjecture. Bioware owns the story and Cassandra's character and the Trevelyan concept; I am merely having fun playing around with their story. _Reviews are welcome._ _This is the last part and it completes the series. Thanks all for reading. _**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The Believer:<p>

"Gone. Just Like the Warden"

_My dearest Cassandra – my love, my lady, my believer,_

_You'll have to forgive me for the ridiculousness of these titles, but I'm writing this letter to you under sentimental circumstances. We just spent the whole night sitting up in bed talking and now it's morning. You are asleep, but as you know I can't because there's too much on my mind._

_If you're reading this it is because I am dead. I have asked Leliana to give this to you if anything happens to me. She knows what it is like to live in the shadow of lost love. I hope you remember that in the days that will come._

_I am sorry, Cassandra. Even as I write this now, with you lying in my bed gently snoring __(sometimes not so much__), I can't help but feel the deep ache in my heart knowing that I will soon leave you and there is nothing either of us can do. We have done everything right, but sometimes sacrifice is required. I'm sorry that I left you, but I'm not sorry for doing the right thing. It is part of who I am; we both know that._

_There are so many things I want to say and I don't know how to say them. So here is what I will tell you._

_You shouldn't__I wish that __I'm not saying you're not allowed to grieve, but when the time comes – and it will come only when you are ready – remember me, but LIVE. I don't want you to live the rest of your life alone. Find someone else who cares for you and loves you and hold on to them. And if you don't, if you never do, that's fine too. Either way, I just want you to be happy at some point in the future._

_I've asked a few people to watch out for you when I'm gone. Leliana and Cullen have promised to help in whatever way they can. Don't push your friends away, Cass. They are grieving too. You will all need each other._

_I hope you're able to go back to Nevarra and make peace with your family. _

_I love you, Cassandra Pentaghast. From the moment I laid my stupid eyes on you I knew that I would be drawn to you. You are a woman of confidence and character. You are kind, genuine, and an absolute romantic sap (don't worry, your secret is safe with me). I always wondered why you made me the Inquisitor when it so clearly should have been you. You are meant to do great things in this lifetime, Cass, and it does not end when we close the Breach and save Thedas. It does not end when I die, it does not end when the Inquisition completes its task… Your greatness ends only when you cease to believe in yourself._

_I love you._

_Emrys_

…

Blotches where tears and droplets of wine had fallen stained the paper she held in her hand. Upon reading its contents the first time Cassandra crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it at Leliana in anger. But Leliana picked it up, smoothed it out, and handed it back to her; even as there were tears in her own eyes.

Cassandra nursed the unfinished bottle of Antivan merlot – the one they had opened together all those months ago – in one hand and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her other. She sat on the floor alone in his study; Cassandra swore that anyone who disturbed her would be stabbed, though it was a weak promise. She didn't even have the strength to lift her sword anymore. As soon as they returned to Skyhold she vented all her anger on the dummies in the bailey. Broken pieces of wood and strands of straw lay scattered throughout the courtyard.

Cassandra felt the most despairing anguish; it was like a deep black pit in her soul. She feared falling into, but sometimes already felt like she was there.

"Maker, why…" she sighed, her head rolling back against his desk.

She thought of that desk and all the times she and Emrys spent together there; going over documents, talking strategy, ordering supplies, writing letters, sitting in his chair for long hours talking and kissing and sometimes doing _other_ things.

There was a knock on the door. "Seeker?" asked the voice on the other side. It sounded like Varric.

"Go away!" she bellowed, lifting the letter in a clenched hand to point him in a direction opposite to hers.

Cassandra heard a sigh and huff and then the lock on the door rattled and jangled. She was about to curse every single rogue in Thedas when the dwarf nudged the door and entered the Inquisitor's study.

"Cassandra…" he said, his voice inflecting pity and sorrow.

"Go the fuck away, Varric. I don't want to see anyone." A fresh stream of tears appeared in her lower lids and her throat tightened. "I mean it."

"I'm not here to tell you what to do. Just thought you might want someone to talk to."

"I don't want to talk about— No. Leave me be. I don't want to talk to anyone."

He shrugged, laid Bianca on the floor beside him, and then sat against the wall. "That's all right. Then I'll just wait until you do."

"Why are you doing this? Being nice to me?"

"Because Crazy asked me to look after you and make sure you were okay."

"Of course he did," Cassandra breathed. She wiped the silly tears in her eyes away once more and sighed. "Fine… I don't want to talk, but… Can you tell me a story?"

Varric smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, settling in for a long tale. "I most certainly can. I'll keep this one short for you." He cleared his throat before he began. "When Crazy and I had our first meeting with the Carta – you weren't there because you had to do something else – we were ambushed. Pajamas and Pops were with us. Crazy starts yelling at them and taunting them – never a good thing to do the Carta – and by the time the dust settles, he's been beat pretty good. I mean, blood everywhere. A black eye. Busted lip. Broken arm. Like he just got in a drunken brawl or something. The rest of us were pretty unscathed. As Pajamas is working his magic, you wanna know what Crazy says? 'Perhaps next time I'll leave the talking to you, Varric'. I think Pops about blew one of his hernias. Called him all kinds of stupid. But Crazy just smiled and laughed. Like he always did."

Typical. Mouthy, self-sacrificing, idiotic bastard he was, Emrys. And Cassandra loved him anyways.

She faked her own smile as she asked, "Tell me this a dream Varric. Tell me it's another one of your stories. Tell me he's not dead. Tell me he's not gone."

"I wish I could Seeker. I wish I could. But he is; he's gone. And all I have left for you are stories about how he lived, loved, and died."

Cassandra took a swig from the bottle of wine in her hand. Once she put it back down, she bent over, her head between her knees and she cried.

"Do you want to know what he told me after you two decided to become a thing?"

She snorted, a sound that resembled a yes.

"He said that he'd never met anyone like you. He said that no one had believed in him the way you did. But he also said another thing and it's stuck with me all this time."

"What was that?" Cassandra sobbed.

"That he believed in you too. That he believed you were strong enough to do this thing without him. You didn't need him as much as he needed you."

Emrys had said things like that to her a lot. It might have been an indicator that he already knew he was marked for death. It might have meant that he knew he would not survive, and it was his way of telling her to keep moving, to keep going on, to keep believing.

"Thanks, Varric…" She wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked up at the dwarf again. "Tell me the story about the time you two played Diamondback with the Champion."

"Oh, it's a good one, Seeker. It's a good one."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you everyone for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following this story. I planned on only writing seven parts to this series and now it is complete. Perhaps in the future once DAI is released I will write a canon version of the romance between Emrys and Cassandra. Again, thank you all! <em>


End file.
